


Buffy vs. the TeeVee

by St_Salieri



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Humor, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-07
Updated: 2008-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What to do when the television is possessed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buffy vs. the TeeVee

It all started, as these things usually did, with Dawn whining.

"But Bufffyyyy! Come oooon! It's starting in, like, five minutes!"

Buffy ground her teeth and counted to ten, then to twenty for good measure.

"I told you, _no_. It's my night, and I'm watching _Dancing With the Stars_. Get over it."

Dawn let out an incoherent gurgle, wringing her hands in a paroxysm of utter frustration and dancing from foot to foot like a little kid waiting in line for the bathroom.

"But...but...final three! Do you know how important this is?"

Her voice was approaching dog-whistle territory. At this rate, all of Cleveland would able to hear her soon. Buffy winced.

"Yes, and I don't care. Seriously. That's what you get for trading your TV night away so you could wear my new red shirt. _Which_ you stretched out, thank you very much. So no. Big no. Go down to the basement and bug Spike if you can watch _American Idol_ on _his_ TV. Just don't ask me to bandage up the bite marks afterward."

Dawn glared at her and eyed Buffy's chest pointedly before flouncing out of the room, muttering something under her breath about _why_ the shirt got so stretched out.

"You'd better watch it, missy!" Buffy called after her. "I've got the remote, you know. One wrong click and the TiVo forgets to record your precious show!"

The slam of the basement door was her only answer. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief and wiped her hands on the dishtowel, eyeing Spike's collection of mugs sourly. He'd forgotten to soak them again, and the rust-colored rings at the top added a charming touch to their crockery. And by charming, she of course meant disgusting.

Maybe it was time to consider withholding the nookie again, which seemed to be the only thing he'd listen to. Of course, that meant _she'd_ have to forgo the fun and games as well, which was a serious downside. Or maybe she could torture him by unearthing her old vibrator and having a little solo fun while he watched....

She blinked, startled, when Dawn slammed her way back into the kitchen again and narrowed her eyes.

"You were thinking pervy thoughts, weren't you? Your face gets all...and sometimes there's drool. It's gross."

Buffy didn't even try to deny it this time. "Whatever. So no luck downstairs?"

Dawn made a sour face. "He and Angel are doing a _House_ marathon."

Buffy blinked at her. " _House_? Seriously?"

Dawn nodded. "Because of the blood. Or so they said. But, you know...well, I don't know if I should tell you. It would be good blackmail material, and it would be bad and wrong to share it."

Dawn blinked her eyes innocently, which Buffy naturally didn't trust in the slightest.

"Out with it," she sighed, folding her arms across her chest.

Dawn shrugged. "I don't know. Gossip of this magnitude should be rewarded, don't you think?"

 _Why, that sneaky little...._ Buffy glanced over at the clock. One minute until show time. She sighed heavily.

"Fine. I'll switch the channel partway through." Dawn looked like she was going to argue, but Buffy kept right on before she could get a word in. "You know the first half of the show is filler anyway."

After a moment of contemplation, Dawn nodded. "Okay, you have a deal." Then her face brightened and she gave the basement door a conspiratorial glance. "Okay...so they _said_ they were watching _House_. But when I came down, they were switching the channel from something else. _And_ there was a _Moonlight_ DVD case on the table." She gave a bounce on her toes, grinning from ear to ear. "So? I done good?"

"You done good," Buffy confirmed, letting a slow smile spread across her face. Oh, she wouldn't let Spike live this one down for a long time. "And for extra credit, there's ice cream in the freezer. Grab it, will you?"

They settled onto the sofa, Buffy firmly clutching the remote like a stake. Even with the deal they'd worked out, she didn't trust Dawn not to try to steal it. Not that it would make much difference either way. Even though Dawn had five inches on her ( _and at least a cup size,_ she thought sourly) she was still the Slayer, by God. One girl in all the world (sort of), chosen to defend the world from the horrors of screechy singing and overpowering vibratos. No _American Idol_ on her watch, not if all the forces of the Hellmouth were relayed against her.

"I can't believe you watch this," Dawn said, eyeing the sequins and feathers with disgust.

"Uh huh," Buffy muttered absently. "See if you can withstand the power of the tango. It has conquered lesser mortals."

"Are there any cute guys at least?" Dawn whimpered as the music started up. "I can stand sequins if there are cute guys."

"Not only are there cute guys," Buffy said with a comforting pat, "there are tight pants as well. Something for everyone."

Dawn settled back into the depths of the sofa with a grunt. "I could totally do better than that," she muttered under her breath as they watched the first dance.

Buffy clenched her jaw and took a big bite of ice cream in lieu of hitting something. She was trying to work on the violence, after all, and she didn't have enough in the budget this month to pay for any spare lamps. They sat in relative peace for a few minutes, watching the hypnotic swirl of the dancers - Dawn giving a groan at every misstep. And then the tango music changed into a more driving rock beat, heavy on the bass.

"Nice transition," Dawn snorted, watching as the dancers separated and stood side by side, facing the camera. They began to dance again, something much more...modern?

"Uh, I don't think this is the tango anymore," Buffy said absently. Whatever they were doing looked vaguely familiar to her, somehow - like something out of a nightmare.

"Oh. My _God_ ," Dawn said, sitting bolt upright. "Look at that! Do you know what they're doing?"

Buffy squinted at the TV. "I don't know. But I've seen this before, right?"

And then it hit her, exactly what she was watching, and she gave Dawn a wide-eyed look. Dawn was making the google-eyed fish look right back at her, gesturing frantically at the TV.

"No _way_ ," Buffy breathed, getting up off the sofa and approaching the television set gingerly. It certainly looked normal - dusty on top, pluggy in back - and it sounded normal. But what was on the screen was decidedly _not_ in the realm of normality. Buffy walked over to the basement door and opened it, keeping her eyes fixed on the TV.

"Honey?" she called down. "Could you get up here, please? It's kind of important."

A grumbling noise emerged from the depths of the basement, and then Spike came galumphing up the stairs two at a time, Angel behind him. Spike had that hopeful look in his eyes that let her know that he was anticipating either sex or violence. Or preferably one followed by the other.

He stopped in disgust after taking one look at the TV.

"Oh, bugger this," he muttered, spinning right back around. "You didn't tell me it was Ice Capades night."

" _Dancing With the Stars_ ," Dawn corrected him. "And I wouldn't throw stones if I were you.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Angel asked quickly. Buffy ignored him.

"Look at what they're dancing!" she said, pointing to the screen. "Doesn't that look familiar?"

"No," Angel said.

"...yes," Spike said after a minute, realization dawning. "Hey, I've seen this before!" He turned to Buffy. "That's your dance! The one you danced with the music and the demon and the almost catching on fire!"

Angel spun around. "What?"

"Yeah," Spike said proudly. "Only I saved her. And then she kissed me. Couldn't take her hands off me."

Buffy cleared her throat delicately. "Not now, honey."

But Spike was right: there on TV, for all the world to see, the dancers were dancing the same exact dance she'd found herself swept up in while trying to save Dawn from her demonic husband-to-be. _Except mine had pool cues and staking. Mine was much cooler._

Strange things were afoot at the Cleveland Circle K.

Buffy calmly walked over to the phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Giles?" she said when he picked up. "Do you know a way to get in touch with Willow quickly? No, it's not an emergency. Just a demon thingy. Or our TV is just possessed."

**********

There was good news: Willow was on her way.

There was even better news: whatever weirdness was going on, it was confined to their television. After much pleading, Giles had reluctantly turned on _Dancing With the Stars_ and informed them that, although the dancing in question offended his sensibilities, there was nothing otherwise unusual about it. It seemed like they were the only ones with direct hookup to the Premium Flashback Channel.

And then there was bad, bad news: they couldn't turn the damn thing off.

They tried throwing switches. They tried pressing buttons. The tried unplugging it. They even tried turning off the circuit breakers for the entire house. No dice. Giles said it was probably a spell, and that he'd send Willow out, but that she wouldn't get there until tomorrow.

In the meantime, the TV blared nonstop, switching channels seemingly at will. And on every single channel, they saw something strangely familiar.

On _Top Chef_ , the winning contestant created a recipe for peanut butter and banana quesadillas. ESPN2 showed a poker championship...a _kitten poker_ championship. And the local news had a breaking report on the destruction of Sunnydale High.

At least they were able to turn the volume down, which was a small blessing.

"Wow," Dawn droned, eyes fixed to the TV. A midnight showing of _Mommie Dearest_ was on, but Faye Dunaway was now playing a character named "Maggie Walsh". "This is just way too weird."

"You're telling me," Buffy muttered. They should have been in bed hours ago, but she couldn't stop watching as little pieces of their lives flashed across the screen. It was fascinating and creepy all at the same time, and she resisted the urge to start talking to the TV just to see if it answered back. Angel and Spike were out doing...whatever it was they did when they tried to track down information from the demon underworld. She didn't know, and she didn't want to know.

"It's like...This Is Your Life," Dawn said. "Only put into a blender."

The channel flipped, and suddenly they were watching a horror movie where a ventriloquist dummy came to life and started stalking the halls of a high school. Buffy shuddered.

"And on that note, I'm going to bed," she said. "You should too."

"Uh huh," Dawn said, still staring vacantly at the TV. "Any minute now." 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Seriously, don't stay up all night watching that. It'll probably be all better in the morning anyway."

Except that it wasn't better in the morning. Dawn had hit an eleven on the one-to-ten Crankiness Scale due to severe lack of sleep - and Buffy thought she was damn near worthy of canonization for not breaking out the big "I told you so," - and Spike and Angel hadn't been able to find out anything about their little problem. If it was a spell, whoever was responsible was keeping a pretty low profile.

The TV buzzed and burbled away at a low hum, and the four of them huddled in the kitchen to conference. Dawn clutched a coffee mug in her hands and fixed them all with a baleful glare.

"That's it," she ground out. "The TV must die. It's the only way I'll get any sleep."

"And this is the _only_ one in the house acting up?" Buffy asked for the third time. "You're sure the downstairs set is normal?"

"Sure," Angel said with a shrug.

"I guess you'd know," Dawn said from the depth of her mug. "What with all the _important stuff_ you've been watching."

Angel coughed. "Well, I never turn down a good medical drama. Isn't that right, Spike?" Angel gave him a grin that was more of a grimace and made a sudden jerking motion that obviously meant that he was kicking someone under the table.

"Huh?" Spike roused himself from whatever fugue he'd fallen into. "Yeah, right. Blood, and lots of it. That's what we like."

"Hmm," Buffy hummed, tapping her fingers innocently against the table. "Then I guess you guys won't mind if I borrow this?" She whipped the _Moonlight_ DVD out from beneath her chair, to the vampires' sudden horror. "I've always wanted to watch this!" she said, then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Promise me you won't tell anyone this, but I've always had a _thing_ for vampires."

Spike sputtered in outrage for a moment before slumping in his chair, clearly giving up in the face of such irrefutable and incontrovertible evidence. "That's his, I'll have you know," was his only defense.

"Look," Angel said, sighing heavily. "It's not what you think. It's research."

"Let me guess," Dawn snickered. "You want to see what the hot new fashions are for the modern urban vampire about town?"

Spike exchanged a fist bump with her, and Buffy smothered a smile.

"They're copying me!" Angel blurted out. "They're copying _my life_ , okay? I mean, hello? Vampire detective? Ring any bells? I know one of the writers. I _know_ he's behind this!"

Buffy burst out laughing, then stopped when Angel's face didn't crack. "You're serious?" she sputtered. "So...what? Are you going to sue them?"

"Don't you have to be a real person for that?" Dawn asked reasonably. "I mean, unless you can get them to settle out of court."

"No," Angel growled. "I was thinking of slicing him open and playing jump rope with his entrails."

"Ew!"

"A little extreme, don't you think?" Buffy asked. "I mean...so what if they did copy from you? It's like you're on TV! How cool is that?"

Angel waved his hand. "Oh, please. They're getting everything wrong. It's so insulting. And anyway, the guy's actually a Puglitz demon. It'll take more than that to kill him. I just want to scare him a bit."

Dawn stared at him. "There are demons working as television writers?"

Spike snorted. "And this surprises you? Did you _see_ what happened to the last seasons of _Cheers_?"

"And speaking of TV," Buffy reminded them, "we still haven't solved our little problem." She checked her watch. "Willow should be here soon. We should probably just lay low and hope she can exorcise our television set."

When they wandered back into the living room, the TV was just flipping to a new channel. Buffy's eyes widened when she saw what was on the screen, and Spike's face lit up.

"I didn't know we got the Playboy Channel!"

"Dawn! Don't look!" Buffy tried to push Dawn out of the room, but she just rolled her eyes and held her ground.

"Oh, please. You think I haven't seen anything like that before? I mean, I _have_ had...."

"Gah!" Buffy clamped her hand over Dawn's mouth. "Can you _please_ indulge my fantasy that you're still an innocent twelve year old?"

"Hey," Spike said, way more interested in the screen than he had any right to be. Buffy glared at him, surreptitiously checking the endowments of the actress on the screen. Oh, whatever. She was totally hotter than Ms. Fakey Balloon-Chest there. "I know this," Spike continued absently.

Buffy snorted. "The amount of porn you've watched in your day, it wouldn't surprise me," she muttered.

Spike shook his head. "That's not what I mean. I mean, I know this because I did it. _We_ did it."

"Huh?" Buffy took a closer look at the screen for the first time. Just some blonde actress lying on her back as the guy knelt between her legs, one knee hooked over his shoulder and her ass off the mattress. And, okay, that took some good muscle control, which she could attest to. But surely other people did that position, right? But then Random Porn Guy began to run his hand up and down his partner's leg in the exact same way Spike did. She knew his moves like the back of her hand, and without a doubt this was the exact same thing. Then the guy gave a hip swirl, and it was _Spike's_ hip swirl, totally and without a doubt, and oh my _God_ she was so weirded out right now.

"Come on," Angel scoffed. "You're saying you've trademarked your own moves now?"

"And I've got the tapes to prove it," Spike leered.

Dawn turned red. "Okay, and _now_ I'm grossed out. Call me when Willow gets here." She skirted the television set gingerly, wincing at the fake moaning, and disappeared up the stairs.

"He _tapes_ you?" Angel whispered to Buffy, clearly appalled - mostly by the fact that Spike was involved, she could tell. She shrugged.

"What can I say? I ended up with a perv and a horndog," she said cheerfully.

"And a total narcissist," Angel muttered.

"Totally," Buffy said fondly, dropping a kiss on the top of Spike's head while Angel rolled his eyes. Luckily, at that moment the doorbell rang.

"Thank God," Angel muttered, going to answer the door.

**********

They watched anxiously from the sidelines as Willow circled the TV, humming thoughtfully and occasionally poking at it with a finger. At one point she muttered something in Latin and waved a bundle of herbs over it.

"Well," she said cheerfully after about half an hour of work, "I can tell you that it's definitely not a spell."

"So you know what it is?" Buffy asked impatiently. Willow's smile faltered.

"Well...."

Buffy buried her head in her hands and groaned. At least the stupid thing wasn't showing the Sex Olympics anymore, and thank heavens for small favors. At that moment, the channel flickered over to...was that a rerun of _Charmed?_

"Ooh!" Dawn said. "I've seen this one."

"Not like this, you haven't," Buffy muttered. The show looked completely normal, except for the fact that all of the sisters had red hair. As they watched, the hair and eyes of the actresses turned inky black.

"Hey!" Willow said, addressing the television set. "I haven't been that way for a while, I'll have you know!"

"Don't bother," Spike said with a rumble. "It seems to be showing the greatest hits from the past, and we can't figure out why. That's what you're here for."

Willow sat heavily down on the couch. "Okay," she said, her eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance as she cataloged her options. "It's definitely not a normal spell. I can tell you that much. If someone had cast a spell on it I'd be getting all kinds of residual energy readings. There's not an outside entity controlling it - I'd be able to tell that too."

Buffy heaved herself to her feet and grabbed her sword, the one she kept conveniently tucked in the corner in case of sudden need. "That's it, then," she said briskly. "I'll just have to slay the TV."

Spike yelped and bolted from his corner to place himself in front of the TV, arms spread protectively in front of it. "Over my undead body you will. Buffy...it's _plasma!_ Hi-def! You wouldn't hurt my baby, would you? After I got such a good deal on it?" He looked at Willow pleadingly. "Come on. Give me something here."

Willow sat up straight, her eyes gleaming with that eureka look Buffy was so familiar with. "Wait, you bought this, Spike? Where did you get it?"

Spike shrugged. "Demon flea market. They hold it on the second Saturday of every month." He flinched at Buffy's raised eyebrow. "What? Bloke owed me a favor, and I got a good price."

"Oh yeah? How do we know your 'bloke' didn't kill the original owner and eat his brains and steal his stuff?"

"Nah," Spike said easily. "Herb's a vegetarian, gentle as they come. He's got his contacts in the warehouses, though, and he knows when the shipments come in."

"I don't think I should be hearing this," Wilow muttered. "But actually...that could be the answer to our problem."

Standing up, she approached the television warily. "Okay, let me try something," she said absently, digging in the backpack she'd brought. She unearthed a container of table salt and a dried flower that smelled like death's old shoes.

"If you get any of that on the carpet, I'm killing you," Buffy warned her.

"Not to worry," Willow said, sprinkling the salt three times over the TV and muttering something under her breath. She placed the smelly flower on top of the TV and spread her arms out wide.

"Show yourself," she ordered. "You are commanded to leave this place and never return."

Buffy was starting to wonder if maybe she had gone crazy, but then the television began to shake and shudder. It shimmied back and forth, the screen flickering crazily from channel to channel. Just as Buffy thought the thing would shake itself to pieces, there was a loud popping sound and a small green, slimy... _thing_ appeared in the middle of the living room. It gave a loud screech and tried to dive under the couch, but Angel intercepted it and held it at arm's length.

"Imp," he said heavily, wincing as it tried to bite him. "I should have guessed."

"Yup," Willow said, clearly pleased with herself. She put the salt and flower back into her backpack, dusting her hands off. "Just a minor imp infestation. But it's out now, and it shouldn't be able to get back in. I'll leave some repellent around the borders of the house, just to be safe, but once they're cast out of a place they don't like to stick around."

"Where did it come from?" Dawn asked in horrified fascination, watching the little imp twist and gibber at the end of Angel's long grasp.

"It was probably hitching a ride on your TV," Angel said. "They're transdimensional, mostly - nuisances, rather than really dangerous. They have minor psychic abilities, which is probably how it was picking up on all our memories and projecting them onto the screen."

"Probably why I got such a good deal on the thing first place," Spike muttered darkly. "Time to have a little talk with Herb, I think. I get my money back, or it gets spread around town that he sells imp-infested electronics."

"So can I kill it?" Buffy asked cheerfully, hefting her sword. After all of the headaches of the last day, she was really looking forward to a good slaying.

"I wouldn't," Angel said with a wince. "You thought that flower smelled bad? Wait until you see what happens when you cut these guys open. I can take care of it."

Buffy nodded thankfully and handed the sword over. As much as she'd been looking forward to a little violence, she'd happily sacrifice it if it meant she could keep smelling pretty.

"So that's it," Willows said briskly. "Sorry to cast and run, but I've got to catch a portal back. But we're meeting up next week, right?"

Buffy nodded and gave her a grateful hug, then watched as Willow left, followed by Angel who carried the struggling imp. Spike heaved a sigh of relief and slung an arm over her shoulders.

"Well, no rest for the wicked," he said, nuzzling her ear in the manner of an amorous puppy. "Since we were denied our spot of violence - at least until I get hold of Herb - what say we head downstairs and...work out our kinks?" He bit down on her earlobe, and Buffy shuddered pleasantly. "I can bring the video camera," he promised huskily.

"Mmmm," she hummed turning around in his arms and favoring him with a long kiss. "Or even better," she murmured, "I can watch a little _Moonlight_ to get in the mood. Now, where did I put that DVD?"

Spike sputtered in outrage, and she laughed and squirmed out of his arms. She raced downstairs, her own personal vampire hot on her heels. Life was good.


End file.
